


Dress Me Down, Chew Me Out

by flootzavut



Category: NCIS
Genre: Elevator Sex, F/M, Kibbs, Oral Sex, Secret Relationship, Shenanigans, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/pseuds/flootzavut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in a relationship with Gibbs brings a whole new meaning to phrases like "dressing down" and "chewing out". On the whole, Kate thinks, the new definitions are a lot more fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress Me Down, Chew Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> Newish established relationship. Plot? Pfft.

She looks up when she feels him appear at her desk. She always knows when it's him. Always has, even before they became a thing.

He doesn't say a word, merely cocks a finger, beckoning her to follow, which of course she does. It's automatic. She can't entirely turn off the urge to do just exactly what he requires of her even in her private life.

They stand in silence to wait for the elevator, get on it, watch the doors close, and then he reaches out to flip the emergency stop and her breath stutters as he turns to her and crowds her up against the wall, a hand either side of her head.

"What?" She kind of hates how rough and wanting her voice is, out of nowhere. No one should be able to do this to her with so little effort.

"Been thinkin'," he starts, all casual, as if he's not looking at her with dark, dark eyes, like he wants to swallow her whole, "'bout how good you taste."

She swallows, uncertain how to respond. Would it be too painfully gauche to say 'Thank you'?

"Can't get it outta my head. There's somethin' about it..." He leans down to nip at the tender flesh below her ear. "Like... God, just _really_ good." He doesn't touch her anywhere else, just works his lips and tongue and teeth down the side of her neck and along her collarbone, then buries his nose in the hollow of her throat and breathes her in deeply. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, grits her teeth, trying to resist the temptation to swear or beg or do anything else to let him know just how quickly and easily he can have her eating out of his hand.

He presses a line of warm kisses down into the open neck of her blouse, nudges the fabric out of the way so he can taste her cleavage, and she can't help the quiet groan whispering out of her. She _feels_ him smirk against her skin, and then he glances up at her with a mischievous look on his face. "You like that, huh?"

She doesn't answer, but judging by his satisfied expression she didn't need to.

He laughs, soft yet dirty, and then he slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of her, and she can feel her eyes go wide and her jaw dropping to her chest when he presses into her lower belly and 'hmmms' deep enough she can feel the vibration through her skirt. What the hell is he doing and why is it making her dissolve?

He moves down, and when he nuzzles in hard right between her legs she might as well be naked. Her whole body is arching into his mouth, needy and desperate, and she should _never_ have got involved with anyone who can disable her brain this way. He's dangerous.

 _Too late now, Katie,_ she thinks, and wonders when she started referring to herself by his favourite pet name.

"Yeah, Katie." Is he reading her mind, now? "Just can't get my mind off of it. It's distractin' me. Tryna study cold cases, but knowin' you're right over there, knowin' what's under this skirt. Knowin' how delicious you are. Knowin' and not bein' able to come bury my face between your legs."

His hands wrap around her ankles and then start to move slowly upwards, and she can't repress the shudder of desire as he touches her skin, even though it makes him laugh at her again.

"Figure I need to concentrate. Make sure my head's clear. And it ain't clear when all I can think about is your pussy, Katie. It ain't clear at all."

His hands have reached her knees, and as they move still higher, he nudges her legs further apart.

"Don't think I can wait till we get home, Katie. Think I need to taste you right now. Just so's I can be productive the rest of the afternoon."

She gulps and her heart rate spikes when she realises what he means. If she could find her voice, she might object. Might. Though even as her mind protests, her body is so, so on board.

He pushes her skirt up, leans forward to tongue her through the thin cotton underneath, presses in against her clit, and she whimpers. He laughs again and hooks his fingers into the sides of her underwear, tugs.

And she lets him.

She's in a daze. Gibbs is kneeling at her feet, slowly peeling her panties down her legs, and they're gonna do it in an elevator. This is _so_ not her. Or at least, it's not the carefully curated and polished image she tries so hard to present to the world. The friends who knew her in college might not be quite as surprised, but almost anyone who knows her professionally would struggle to believe she could in a million years be doing this.

The part of her which has spent the last few years fighting for respect and recognition in a male dominated world is frantically reminding her people saw them go in the elevator, and if they reemerge with her flushed and Gibbs wiping her come off his face, well, it won't take a room of Special Agents to figure out he wasn't so much chewing her out as eating her out.

So why is she just standing here watching, her pulse racing, her body dissolving into a sticky mess she hopes he's prepared to clean up? Maybe the bad girl isn't so deeply buried after all, she thinks, as she steps obediently out of her underwear and lets him hook a leg over his shoulder, her skirt riding up round her waist, her belly clenched in anticipation. She tries to tell herself she doesn't want it, but dear _Lord_ , she _does_.

He chuckles, slides a finger inside her, looks up at her as he licks it clean. "Damn, Kate. You been fantasisin' at your desk or what?"

Colour rushes to her cheeks. She's not really prepared, _yet_ , to admit how quickly he can get her from prim and proper good girl, concentrating on her work, to melting at the mere thought of his mouth. How it takes only a few words or a sufficiently heated look to make her... pleasantly uncomfortable all of a sudden. How using the idea of his hands to relieve erotic tension for the eighteen months before he first kissed her has left her with a Pavlovian response to his touch.

Gibbs raises an eyebrow, smirks, and she wonders if he's worked it out anyway. He's fingering her again, and it's not like her reactions are difficult to miss, but he doesn't say anything else, just lowers his lips to her skin.

He bites her inner thigh, and she's about to tell him not to be such a fucking tease when he licks up her leg and into her. She gasps. Sixty seconds ago she was concerned about the wisdom of doing this at work. Now all she can do is moan, and drip all over his face.

Evidently he didn't shave this morning, and his five-o-clock shadow is rough against her flesh, and holy hell but it feels good. _Kinky bitch_ , says a little voice inside her head; the rest of her doesn't give a shit as long as he keeps doing exactly what he's doing.

He's licking and sucking thoroughly, as if maybe he'll be able to catch every last drop. _Good luck with that,_ she thinks, as she pushes into his face. Unless he's developed the ability to breathe through his ears, there's no way he's going to keep up with what this is doing to her. She grabs on tight to the rail round the elevator car with one hand and his head with the other, hoping to make up for her leg, which is going to give out any second. She gives serious consideration to the idea of pushing him down on his back and sitting on his face, but flushed skin and a wet face are a cakewalk to disguise when compared with carpet-burned knees, so instead she holds on really tight and hopes for the best.

"Ohhhh, _Jeeeezzzuuuusssss_." She feels him laugh, and makes a mental note to punch him for smugness once he's done making her brain short-circuit. "Oh, fuck."

When they do this in one of their beds or on the couch or pushed up against his just-closed front door when he simply cannot wait a second longer, he takes it slow and easy, taking pride in how completely he can make her fall to pieces, how by the time he's done she can barely stand up, barely move, her bones turned to rubber, her muscles to jell-o. Today, though, it seems he's in a hurry, or maybe just needs to taste her _so bad,_ because he's attacking her body like it's an enemy position he's charged with defeating single-handed.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God." She's no longer worrying about having a flushed face; she's more worried he's gonna have to sling her over his shoulder and dump her in a satiated heap behind her desk for an hour or so, because her knees aren't gonna hold her up.

He laughs again, and does something with his tongue and his fingers she's not certain is even legal, and then she's coming and falling and has absolutely no idea what's going on for a good couple of minutes.

When she manages to gather her scattered thoughts into some kind of order, she finds herself curled into his lap. His arm is around her back, clutching her to his chest, and she can feel his laughter. She can't figure out how she got here, or how he managed to blow her brain so completely. His other hand is still inside her, and he twists his fingers and swipes once over her clit, laughs harder when she bucks and swears.

She glances up at him, and he's grinning. "Wow, Kate." He retrieves his hand and casually licks her come off of it. "Always wanted to do that. Never expected to get _that_ kinda reaction, though. Got an exhibitionist streak you're hidin' from me or what?"

Her cheeks heat, but she can't help laughing - even if it's slightly wild laughter. "Asshole."

He grins wider. "Asshole who just made you scream."

"Still."

He shrugs. He's immune to most things she can aim at him. He's been called worse things in her hearing.

Actually, _she's_ called him worse things, and she's supposed to be his girlfriend, lover, whatever the hell she is to him. She kind of likes having the freedom to say when she's pissed, knowing he won't get offended. She's never been in a relationship where calling someone a bastard is likely to lead to sex rather than a row.

He digs in his pocket and produces a large handkerchief he uses to wipe his face and then to carefully mop up the puddle that used to be her vagina before he got his mouth on it.

She's still not sure they're going to pass muster for having had an innocent dressing down in here, though if someone asks if Gibbs was angry at her, she thinks she could semi-honestly answer yes. She sure feels like she was chewed out more than eaten out, even if she also has to admit (to herself) that being chewed out isn't usually so enjoyable.

When her breathing has subsided to something approaching normal, he pulls them both to their feet. Somewhat to her surprise, she can actually stand and her knees haven't actually disintegrated.

She's mildly impressed with herself.

He hits the emergency stop button, and she immediately hits it again. "I just need to..." She straightens her clothing and sweeps an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Do I look okay?"

He smiles one of those slow, melting smiles that's almost as dangerous a use of his mouth as cunnilingus. "Gorgeous."

She frowns up at him. Only Gibbs can do asshole and sweet at the exact same moment. "You _know_ that's not what I meant."

He makes a show of inspecting her, leans down to steal a brief kiss. "No, you don't look like someone took you in the elevator and went down on you till you screamed, Katie."

"You sure?" She isn't entirely certain whether she should trust him. There's an outside chance he wants other people to know what he can do to her.

"Trust me, Katie." He smirks. "Only person I want lookin' at you and knowin' you've come your brains out is _me_."

 _Well_... okay, that probably fits better with the Gibbs she knows and lo- likes a lot (despite her better judgement).

He flips the brake again, and again she reaches out to stop it.

"What?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She lets just enough bite enter her tone to make his eyebrows shoot upwards.

He shrugs, feigning innocence. Poorly.

"My underwear."

"Oh, yeah." He looks at his watch, cocks his head as if he's thinking about it. "Nah, gonna keep 'em. Only got a couple hours left. Not much point puttin'em back on ya when I'm just gonna hafta take 'em off again."

She glares. "Gibbs! Give them back."

"Nope."

He turns the elevator back on, blocks her from getting near the switch, and then the doors are opening on a room full of agents who are almost certainly going to notice if she continues to berate him about her panties.

"You owe me _so_ big, Gibbs," she snarls, low and venomous. Is it justifiable homicide when the victim is a total pain in her ass who she desperately wants to kill (fuck, marry)? She should look it up.

He just smirks. "Can't _wait_ for you to collect," he says mildly, and then he's heading back to the bullpen and she follows him, giving the back of his head the dirtiest look she can muster. Sitting back down at her desk, she shifts uncomfortably, and it's really _not_ so pleasant right now.

She shoots him a scowl which means 'They are never going to find your body' and then turns back to the case file still open on her desk. If she manages to absorb a single detail from it, it'll be a minor miracle, but from the way DiNozzo and McGee have both disappeared behind their computers, at least her fury is going to deflect any questions about what exactly she and Gibbs were doing in the elevator all that time.

It suddenly occurs to her he probably did that entirely on purpose, and she sends him another scowl.

Her computer dings to let her know she has an email.

_'You're pretty when you're mad.'_

She attempts with mixed success to hide her involuntary smile.

_'You're dead when we get home.'_

When she looks up he's smirking at her again and she shakes her head, losing her battle with the impulse to grin. _Bastard_. Sleeping with her boss is probably the least wise decision she's made in years. But she has to admit... there are benefits.

_~ fin ~_


End file.
